Warhammer: Black Whispers
by Wayward Prime
Summary: The lone survivor of the Black Whispers Space Marine chapter is granted a second chance. However, the new Battle Brothers under his command are not the familiar champions of the Golden Throne. Now, he leads a warband of his own. However, teachings of the dangers of Chaos still hold some sway. In the end, his actions will either damn him or save him.


The Space Marine staggered. With each painful step, he came closer and closer to the brink of oblivion. He fell. With tremendous effort, he hauled himself up, the ancient ceramite plate groaning in protest.

The Terminator Armor that clung to his massive frame was black. Neither the regal sable of the Black Templars, nor the chaotic shade of the Black Legion. Rather, it was the charred black of a dead thing, a dirty thing, a damned thing. The scorched black that is the color of the corpse that has received the Emperor's purification. The ancient plate had started to take on a crimson sheen. It was splattered in gore. Battle Brothers, heretics…it mattered not. All were a part of the lone Angel of the Emperor.

From his right hand dangled his trusty chainsword, spattered with the same crimson that dripped from his armor. _A lot of good it's done me_, he huffed. In his left hand he currently carried a simple Bolt pistol. Both had played a part in the slaughter that had occurred not long before. Staring at both, he held his arms aloft in dismay. Pain wracked his spine, causing him to fall to his knees once more. Grimacing, he brought his hand up to his mouth and coughed. Dismayed, he looked and saw his palm covered in blood.

_He cares not from where the blood flows…so long as…so long as it flows… _When before he might have questioned such heresy, now he could only bark out a harsh laugh. _Heresy indeed…but where has the benediction of our beloved Corpse Lord gotten us? _ Twisting his face into a savage smile, he chewed at his lip, drawing more blood. Suddenly, he stopped.

Ahead of him, he saw things. Heard things. The furious stomping of boots, the hideous roars of slaughter. Snarling, he was met with the sight of a squad of Black Legion Chaos Marines. The marines in turn snarled, yelling obscenities at him. He did likewise. Knowing that there was only one way this would all end, he readied himself for more slaughter.

"Come, you cowardly dogs," he roared, revving his chainsword. Taking him up on his offer, three Chaos Marines charged at him, firing their bolters. Instead of facing them head on however, the lone marine turned in the opposite direction and ran. His hearts pumping, he raced back towards a canyon he had passed through earlier. Despite the weight of the Terminator armor, the plate held, taking in the explosions that boomed around him. _It's a good thing the Chaos Marines can't shoot for shit._ This grim triumph brought temporary peace to his racing mind, spurring him on further.

The space between the opposing cliff faces was narrow, just barely big enough for his Terminator-encased frame to squeeze through. However, he made it through. Unfortunately for the Chaos Marines, the space was still too narrow for them. They had to run after the marine, single file. The marine had been counting on this. Turning around, he holstered his bolt pistol and gripped his chainsword with both of his hands. Revving the blade, he prepared for the coming onslaught.

"Just as planned, you bastards," he snarled. The first Chaos Marine, carried in his momentum, ran right into the blade. The sawed teeth shredded through the ceramite, and found home in the soft flesh below. A spray of blood and a loud crack later, the unfortunate Chaos Marine was rent in two. Moving his chainsword to his right hand, He then held the next lead Chaos Marine at bay, while he reached for his Bolt pistol. The Chaos Marine could only snarl, as he was too close to not blow both of them up with a bolter.

"Once again, just as planned." What had once been a smirk of dark victory was now transformed into a grin of savage triumph. Backstepping, he brought his Bolt Pistol to bear and got enough distance to blow the wretched heretic back to the Warp. The final marine would be the toughest, he knew. Wary of the marine's tricks, the last Chaos Marine took time to draw out his bolter. Now that his Battle Brother had been dispatched, he was free to aim.

Frowning, the lone marine dashed to the side, almost avoiding the hail of Bolter fire. Almost.

A bolt round had hit the ground next to him, burying itself in the earth. The resulting explosion had knocked the Terminator-clad marine off his feet. Immobile and belly up, he noticed with dismay that, during the chaos, he had dropped his chainsword and Bolt pistol. Now was not the time for bewilderment, however, as he heard the Chaos Marine rush at him.

Struggling to get up, he was greeted with the sight of the Chaos Marine drawing near, with a chainsword of his own drawing near. Taking a desperate gambit, he tucked his legs up as close to his chest as possible. As soon as the Chaos Marine came within range, he kicked out his legs, aiming for the knees. He was rewarded with the sound of a sickening crack, and bellowed prayers to the Ruinous Powers.

With one final effort, he rolled over onto his belly. Pushing himself up, he steadily shook himself as he rose to his feet. Turning to the felled Chaos Marine, cursing in the dirt, he raised his leg and stomped on the Fallen Angel's helmet. Hard.

"Well, it looks like I did it," he muttered. "That's that. Now, I gotta clear out before more of that squad shows up."

"Mmmh…no. I think not," came a smooth voice from behind. Suddenly, pain. The marine looked down, staring in disbelief at the Daemon sword that now protruded from his gut. Clawing at it, he screamed as the blade was slowly withdrawn.

"No that your death is an honor," whispered his murderer. "For, is it not an honor to fall at the hand of Lord Eliphas the Inheritor?"


End file.
